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So, it had been Noel's fault.
He had overestimated his hand while hanging out with the wrong crowd and ended up with the flu. Wrong crowd meaning "a bunch of gross Inspiral Carpets groupies" according to Liam, and overestimating his hand meaning "he shagged one that was 'sniffly but not queasy so it was probably a head cold' in the loos".
That was all well and good. He was young and strong and not a fucking wimp, so he didn't cancel the rehearsals the week after and managed to play between his trips to the toilet and the coughing fits. He was done with the whole thing within four days.
But on the last day he had sneezed all over Liam's face while the kid was in the middle of asking him something. And that was two days ago.
And well, now Liam was in front of him, wobbly, furious, some sort of blanket wrapped over his shoulders, nose red, and saying simply, "Don't want to give the death bug to mam," before pushing past Noel and rushing to the toilet to puke his guts out.
God, the kid got some lungs on him, the retching sounds reverberated all around Noel's tiny hotel room, and the miserable whimpers would have been beyond heartbreaking in isolation. He sounded much younger when he was sick. Looked it, too. And he was far too pampered and spoiled for his own good, but he also did get far sicker than Noel ever had. He'd always been a sickly kid and nowadays even a mild cold could take him out of commission for up to a week. Upset tummies lasted days on the lad. Fragile like a fucking princess, no matter how much of a rock god he fancied himself to be.
Once the noises calmed down, Noel took a breath and asked (still holding the door open which must've meant that he was still holding on to hope), "you alright there?", to which Liam replied with a sniffle, a whimper, and an "I'm dying", so it was probably no worse than a bad hangover.
After a while, Noel could hear the toilet flushing, water running, and Liam emerged looking terrible. Blotchy red in places and still somehow pale. He was well skinny these days, still hitting growth spurts at 19 somehow, but he looked straight up haggard. Noel could clearly see a shiver going all the way up from his toes, making the kid wrap his arms around his tummy, which grumbled unceremoniously, and his blue eyes were so fucking miserable that Noel, god forbid, had wanted to give him a cuddle and tell him everything would be alright.
He settled for reaching out with his hand to touch Liam's forehead, asking "D'you got a fever?", to which, Liam responded with his usual charm, slurring "I'm fine!", and swatting Noel's hand away, as if he hadn't claimed to be at death's door not five minutes earlier.
***
Peggy called within the hour, asking Noel in distress if he knew where Liam was, and then immediately yelling at Liam when Noel passed the phone on to him. Peggy only ever yelled when it involved being worried about Liam (either at Liam himself or whoever she deemed responsible for her cherub at the time, usually Noel), but when Liam handed the phone back to Noel she was much calmer and said it was best that he stay there until he was no longer contagious since Noel was obviously inoculated and had plenty of experience looking after him (since the fucking day he was born, in fact).
So Noel was not happy. The room he could afford at the hotel was even smaller than their room at home, and he only had one bed and one chair, so his options were to top'n'tail it with his convalescing, oversized, baby brother, or sleep on the floor. And the rest of the time he could sit on the bed or sit on the chair - which is what he normally did, but now felt far more claustrophobic. Well, at least the goblin had brought his own blanket.
Liam went through a whole toilet roll before it got dark, and Noel figured it was best to go get a supply of their own, lest they charge him extra due to guests and germs, so he did. Tesco's was a nice change of scenery, and when he came back, Liam had fallen asleep and he was always his most pleasant self when he wasn't conscious.
***
When things stayed peaceful for two hours straight, Noel got worried.
"Kid? Liam?" he said gently while sitting next to the kid on the bed, he was sweaty and little tremors went up and down his body. He was muttering something it seemed, but he didn't wake, though. And Liam was a loud sleeper, he talked to imaginary people and that, but well, Noel may have tried to minimize this but he knew full well he should have checked on him much sooner.
"Liam, wake up. You need to drink some water, kid," he tried, still gently but pushing him somewhat, looking around for his (one) cup and strategizing how best to get to the tap while maintaining the kid sat up (if he managed to sit up).
Peggy would have his head if anything happened to the kid.
Gentle shaking and pulling did the trick, somewhat, "Noely," groaned Liam, sounding like a wounded animal, his eyes unfocused and still blotchy red and sweating. Noel managed, with much difficulty, to sit him up, one hand on his back, trying to get him to lean on the headboard. Liam's jumper was soaking wet.
"Okay, kid, I need you to take this off, you'll feel better soon, yeah?" Noel knew how to deal with fevers. He'd dragged Liam out of them with very little cooperation since the kid had been about three.
Removing the covers, getting him down to his vest and boxers, applying cold compresses from the tap seemed to do the trick. It took a good thirty minutes but Liam was coherent, or as coherent as he could be anyway, still sore and shivery, still blotchy red and sweating, but human.
"That was bad, Liam, why the fuck didn't you tell me before it got bad?" Noel realized at that moment that he also yelled when he was worried about Liam. No time to think about that, though.
All Liam did was shrug. "Dunno, you notice usually, right," was all he muttered, and yeah, it's Noel with the glass of water before he drinks so much he pukes, it's Noel with the cough medicine, and the tea for a stomach bug. He kind of thought once Liam became an adult things would change though, like the pathetic optimist he always turned out to be.
"Well, don't do that again, you gotta speak up," he said, sounding twice his age, turning the compress over and wondering if he should wet it again or ask for a fan of some sort at reception. Kid nodded for once.
It was getting late, now, and it hit Noel that he hadn't eaten, which meant that Liam probably hadn't either. Noel abandoned his attempts at cuisine early on, but he had pot noodles and a kettle, and while Liam explained that he would probably only throw it all back up, Noel reasoned that it was better to have something to throw up than not, and that he could pay him back for the noodles when they got signed.
Kid ate two servings and a weetabix that Noel had got him at the Tesco's earlier. And, for now, they were staying down.
Noel wondered if Liam should have a shower, but he reasoned that it might be best to wait 'til morning, so once it seemed that the kid's temperature was under control, his clothes drying on the shower rack, his stomach full, Noel figured they could call mam and maybe, just maybe, ease her nerves. She still yelled, but was far more relieved when she hung up. And now, it was time to sleep.
The blanket was soaked through and so were the sheets, so Noel went downstairs to ask for a new set and paid the 2-pound fee, not without mentally adding it to Liam's bill.
Once he came back up, he got Liam to stand for the first time in several hours, and while he looked wobbly, he did seem much better off than when he arrived, and Noel felt a twinge of pride, despite himself. He made the bed proper, corners and all, and then he got the kid to lie back down, tucked him in with just a sheet, lest he overheat again.
"There's room, yeah? You don't got a blanket, you can't sleep on the floor," Liam said, even while cooperating with Noel's deft movements that included him lifting his arms and resting them atop the sheets.
Noel grimaced but conceded, the floor was grim as fuck.
As they finally set to sleep, Noel on his back, as close to the edge of the bed as he could, Liam between him and the wall, Noel immediately knew he'd have a bad back in the morning.
But Liam yawned big and scuttled closer, muttering "Thank you, Noely," and then laid his head on Noel's chest to lull himself to sleep by feeling him breathing, like he used to when he was just a kid and he got those bad colds, and the psoriasis, and chicken pox, and the mumps, and a fucking laundry list of bacterial and viral infections that Noel had just gotten out of.
"Go to sleep, kid," was all Noel said, and for once, Liam listened.